


Waiting Room

by sasnill



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasnill/pseuds/sasnill
Summary: He remembered a sick, frightened noise coming out of his own throat and Even saying, "We'll be there soon. We'll be there soon," as Isak's footsteps weaved from side to side across the path.---A long night.





	Waiting Room

Isak's memories felt choppy even as they formed, devoid of sense or significance and, later, devoid also of order. He remembered his footsteps weaving - he remembered stumbling from stillness into motion when Even lead him away. He remembered spitting blood, because it kept dripping into his mouth. He remembered a sick, frightened noise coming out of his own throat and Even saying, "We'll be there soon. We'll be there soon," as Isak's footsteps weaved from side to side across the path. He remembered wanting to cry. He remembered thinking about how fuzzy and distant everything felt, followed by a jagged spike of adrenaline down his spine whenever he tried to bring the thought to its logical conclusion. 

It was just panic. Surely it must just be panic. He spit out more blood. His face felt sticky with it. There was so _much_.

No, not that much. Not actually that much, he thought. Calm down. It's not a lot of blood.

A small piece of good luck was that everything had gone to shit so early in the evening that they'd avoided any possibility of a Friday night emergency room crowd. Isak sat and stared at his hands, bracketed by Even and Jonas in the waiting room; Mahdi and Magnus sat opposite. No one talked. Maybe they were taking Isak's lead. 

His name was called far sooner than he'd expected and Isak wasn't sure how he felt about that, because he knew how triage worked. His legs felt very mechanical when he stood, but at least he'd stopped bleeding so much; his nose was just blocked now.

Even came with him. Isak was grateful for that.

The room was small. Or perhaps it just felt small. Laminated informational posters were pinned to the walls. Isak sat again and answered questions about what had happened while the doctor examined his face with gloved hands.

"Where are we now?" she asked.

"In the emergency room," Isak said. His eyes flicked from her to Even and back again. What exactly was he looking for? he wondered. A 6? A 6 on his concussion test? "In - uh." He faltered. He settled for, "Near the tram stop," but there were tram stops fucking everywhere, Jesus. Fuck. "We were in --"

"Løkka," Even said. 

"Løkka," Isak repeated, nodding. Yes. But the doctor had already moved on.

"What were you doing before the injury?"

He glanced at Even again. "We were at a friend's party."

"Drinking?"

Isak nodded. He tried to look contrite. He _felt_ contrite.

"Have you had any trouble balancing? Any vomiting?"

"Uh..."

"He was unsteady on the way here," Even cut in.

"But that - but that was probably the beer," Isak said quickly. "And the, the shock. Not medical shock. I mean the... surprise." He was talking too much. He tried to get a grip. 

The doctor didn't seem inclined to take his diagnosis on board. She was however inclined to shine lights in Isak's eyes, which he tried not to shy away from, and make him touch her fingers and the tip of his nose, back and forth. Could he breathe through it? she asked. Not really, he said, but only because it's blocked with blood. He tried anyway. It made him cough. It hurt like fuck.

He wanted her to like him. Or - not like him, exactly, but he wanted her to think that he was a good patient who answered questions thoroughly and promptly and didn't make a big deal out of shit that wasn't a big deal. He didn't want her to think that he was a stupid kid who got drunk and got into fights and who deserved it. He curled his fingers into loose, cold fists in his lap. 

"Any numbness?" she asked.

"No," he said immediately. Shit, he could do with some numbness. The thought hit with a breath of laughter. He bit his lip and tried to reset, tried to look like he was resetting and really thinking about it. "No," he said again, more seriously this time. "I don't think so."

Even's hand was on his back. The doctor was glancing between them, back and forth. Isak felt his jaw clench. She asked about the fight again. Delicately. It registered, suddenly, _what_ she was asking, why she was asking. Isak tried to redirect. She didn't press. It wasn't as if it had any medical implications, anyway.

After a few more minutes of inspection and questions she concluded that her diagnosis was twofold: a broken nose, which she could splint for him, and inconclusive, because alcohol was a complicating factor as far as concussion went. So he'd need a scan. So he'd have to wait here a while. Or - not here; he'd have to go back and wait outside. Isak wasn't a fan of how cold and bright everything was. He didn't like it.

"Can he wash first?" Even asked. He kept rubbing Isak's arm and shoulder, coming to rest on his back for a minute before starting over again. Something about the predictability of the cycle was intensely comforting.

"Yes?" the doctor said. "Yes, of course."

They went to the bathroom. Isak studiously avoided the mirror, which was easy enough; his eyes kept wanting to squint closed. He washed his hands off first. The blood had long dried by now, leaving only the pain in his face; he could flick dried, clotted drops of it off his palm with a fingernail. Somehow that didn't feel too great.

"We should tell the boys," he said. "I'm going to be stuck here for a while, so."

Even nodded and took a half-step away, then stopped.

"I'm fine here," Isak said.

He smiled. Even left. Isak regretted sending him away before he was even out of sight. He knew he should look at himself but couldn't bring himself to, not yet; the best he could manage was to guess at where the blood was and wipe at it gingerly with paper towels, which came away progressively more and more pink as the water dissolved the blood. After a little while they started to come away clean and then Even was back at his side, hand on his back.

"Did they go?" he asked.

Even gave him a look. Isak recognised it as the kind of look Even gave him when Isak expected something to happen which Even thought was patently bizarre.

"They're waiting outside," he said. 

Isak nodded. "Oh," he said. Light. He nodded again. He looked at the disintegrating paper towel in his hands. Looked back up at Even. Cleared his throat. Said, "Did I get everything, or..."

Even slouched down to get out of the light and cupped Isak's jaw, turning his face so that Isak's back was to the mirror. His hand was warm and dry. He took a handful of fresh towels, dampened them, and wiped at his cheek, exceedingly gentle - more gentle than Isak had been, because Isak had the advantage of knowing how hard he could press before it hurt. Then he wiped around Isak's eye and onto his temple, pausing every so often to flip to a new, clean corner.

"I really spread it around a lot, huh," Isak joked weakly. He desperately wanted to bury his face against Even's chest. 

Even laughed. That was kind of him. And then he was done, Isak was clean, but they both just kind of stood there, Even stroking Isak's cheek and Isak leaning against the sink, fist bunched around the hem of Even's shirt.

"Thanks," Isak whispered. He gave Even's shirt a tug, drawing him in until they were pressed together, Isak awkwardly trying to navigate his face into the crook of Even's neck. He gave up after a while and kissed Even's cheek instead.

The boys were indeed waiting for him, just as Even had said. The volume of their conversation went down several decibels as soon as Isak slipped through the bathroom door - out of respect for his potential brain injury, he guessed.

"You look better," Jonas said as Isak sat down beside him, nodding encouragingly. Even sat on his other side.

"That black eye, though," Mahdi said.

"Yeah?" Isak touched the skin around it gingerly. It felt tender. "Does it look cool?"

He could take a picture of it and see, he thought, now that he'd been cleaned up. He also thought that he really didn't want to see. And then he thought he should just fucking do it, just to get it over with, because he'd have to look eventually. So he dug his phone out of his pocket and took a picture.

"Wow," he said. It didn't look great. But it didn't look _bad_. Not as bad as he'd feared.

"How long do you have to wait?" Magnus asked.

"Why, do you have somewhere to be?" Isak said. Then he regretted it. 

"I was just wondering."

"Not long, I don't think." He glanced at Even for confirmation. He didn't actually remember if he'd been told; he hadn't retained much. He'd processed everything more or less okay while it was happening but then it was gone, because as soon as it was over it was irrelevant and it was time to move on to the next thing. The next heart-pounding thing.

"Not too long." Even nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "Less than an hour."

"Is that all?" Mahdi said.

"Easy," Magnus nodded.

The conversation drifted. Isak leaned into Even's side and let it wash over him, crests of laughter that shallowed out into more subdued conversation before rising again, like waves. There was blood on his jeans. And on the inside of his cuff, when he thought to look. Even rubbed his arm. Isak made a mental note to google how to get blood stains out of clothes when he got home.

As his allotted waiting time stretched into the hour, and then an hour and a half, punctuated only by getting called away to get his nose put in a splint and some decongestant, the last of the adrenaline seeped out of him, leaving Isak feeling lethargic and vaguely hungover. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. In a way, though, it was a relief; his breathing had levelled out, he'd stopped feeling so twitchy. He had just enough time to kind of begin to enjoy it, in a cherishing kind of way, before the relative calm was ripped away from him again in the form of his CT scan.

Even couldn't come with him this time, so Isak handed over his phone and keys and headed off without him. Isak didn't feel great about that. Suddenly Isak didn't feel great about anything. He couldn't even get it together enough to appreciate how cool it should have been to see this huge machine up close and even be allowed to get inside it. He wondered if the doctors would be able to tell from the scan how hard he was working to keep it together. Was there some part of his brain that lit up every time he tried to swallow away the lump in his throat? Was there some part that would tell them he was afraid? Surely there was a part that showed that the knot in the back of the gown he'd had to change into was digging into his back because he'd self-consciously tied it into a double bow for security. He wished he was with it enough to be able to ask those kinds of questions.

When he got back Even looked like he was prepared to settle in for the night, legs stretched out and arms folded across his chest, but he sat up when he saw Isak and said, "How was it?" 

Isak shrugged half-heartedly. "It was fine," he said. Even held his arms out, beckoning. Isak went.

"What did they say?" Jonas asked. He'd gotten a rubber glove from somewhere and had blown it up like a balloon. 

"They'll let me know," Isak said. He shoved his keys and phone back into his pocket and rubbed at his uninjured eye. The constant ricocheting between panic and calm and pain had left him utterly drained. His voice was scratchy. "They said 'soon', but..." he shrugged again, meaning, _They also said an hour_.

"But if it's serious they won't waste time, right?" Mahdi said. "So if we have to wait, that's a good thing."

"You don't have to wait with me," Isak said. It had to be getting close to midnight; the waiting room was getting crowded. Everyone had spent their whole fucking Friday waiting around for him. Looking out for him.

Magnus gave him a look. It was the same look Even had given him. And it was apparently all the rebuttal Isak warranted, because after a beat Jonas started telling him about everything he'd missed during his scan: someone in the bathroom had been singing and throwing up at the same time; they'd counted ninety-two glove-balloon passes without hitting the floor; the sandwich Magnus got from the vending machine was off; they had blankets here that were pre-warmed, which was pretty cool.

"I need to find out how," Mahdi said. "I need one for my house."

It wasn't long before a doctor came out. Isak straightened. He felt his fingers clench around Even's thigh, nervous. It's serious, he thought. They didn't waste time. But he'd barely finished the thought before he was disabused of it; there was concussion but it was extremely mild. He'd be fine. He could go home. All he needed was rest, lots of rest. And no alcohol.

Isak hadn't quite been aware of how much tension everyone had been privately holding until one by one they relaxed, smiles suddenly easier, postures far more loose. Even kissed his temple, lingering a moment too long for it to mean nothing. Jonas and Mahdi laughed.

"Ohhhh," Magnus said. He raked a hand through his hair. "Shit, man. Wow. Okay. Let's get out of here."

The others peeled off one by one as they walked, headed home or maybe to another, better party, one that Isak wouldn't be around to fuck up. They exchanged hugs and backpats and Isak wanted to say something, something that meant something, like _Thank you_ but moreso, but he couldn't really think of anything. What could he say? That he'd do the same for them? They already knew that. He hoped they already knew that.

He and Even both paused in the hallway when they got home, shoes off and door closed but neither making any move to go further into the flat. Even was watching him, uneasy.

"Big night," Isak said.

Even nodded. He smiled, a little thin and a little sad. He looked like he didn't want to talk but felt like he had to, and Isak really didn't want to talk, not right now. If he did anything in the next fifteen minutes that was not directly related to sleep he was going to cry. He was so fucking tired. So he smiled back and then left, changed out of his blood-stained jeans and blood-stained jacket and into clothes that were clean and brushed his teeth and discarded his hat, and then that was it. He could go to bed. So he went to bed. He had to lie on his back, though, because his uninjured side was the side that faced away from Even, and he didn't want to do that.

Even joined him after a few minutes, tense and quiet as if maybe he thought Isak was already asleep, but then he said, "Do you need anything?" so obviously he didn't.

Isak shook his head in the dark. "A new face," he whispered. 

Even's laugh was equally hushed as he slipped in beside him. After a while, he said, "I'm sorry." It took a long time to say.

Isak bit back the first thing that came to him, which was that he didn't care, because that would come out wrong. Even's apology wasn't what he didn't care about; it was everything that came along with it. The subtext. The weight. He shook his head and then left it tilted slightly, just enough to be able to see Even silhouetted, and reached out. It was an awkward angle, left arm bending up to touch Even's cheek.

"Can we switch sides?" he asked. He felt Even smile. And then Even was up, and over him, and easing himself carefully back down on Isak's other side, like the jostling would somehow reverberate into Isak's face. Isak curled into him, head pillowed on his shoulder, hand curled into a loose fist against his chest. Even kissed his temple and then settled, more or less, cheek against his forehead. Once a minute or so he took a deep breath like he was about to say something more but then, maybe thinking better of it, he let it out through his nose. 

Eventually he said, "Your phone dinged."

"Hm?"

"When you went for the scan," Even said. "Your phone dinged."

"Oh." 

It didn't seem that important. It certainly wasn't what Even wanted to say. Isak sat up anyway, crawled to the end of the bed and dug through the pile of discarded clothes until he found his jeans, then the right pocket, then his phone. He squinted against the light and read: _Everything okay?_ It was from Sana. He remembered, in a vague sort of way, that she'd been there too. It hadn't really registered. Nothing had really registered. He sent her a thumbs up and dropped his phone back on top of the pile. Then he picked it back up again and typed, _All good. I was actually the healthiest person they'd ever seen._

Even's hand slid up his spine as Isak moved up the bed again, guiding him back into place in the dark. He tried to settle. He could feel Even trying to settle, too. After a few unsuccessful moments Isak tilted his head up, touched Even's jaw until he looked down.

"Okay," he said.

Even nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Isak whispered.

Even kissed his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sasnill on tumblr, too.


End file.
